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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25110511">The Only New You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice'>HopeCoppice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>70s Crowley, Gen, Just a bit of fun really, Stayin' Julive, T. O. N. Y you ain't got no alibi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:40:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,921</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25110511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of little ficlets about Crowley's 70s exploits, for Stayin' Julive.<br/>Actually, this turned into a little fic involving an awkward encounter between the Ineffables. *shrugs*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't have much more than a vague idea for this but I'm writing it anyway, because I can and because sungmee on Tumblr had the idea for July to be Tony Month, and then yamisnuffles called it Stayin' Julive, and that just cracked me up so I had to. Besides, I haven't written any 70s Crowley (at least not the 1970s) and that seems like a terrible oversight.</p><p>Title is just self-indulgent nonsense.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley spread an array of fashion magazines across his bed and frowned at them thoughtfully. He hadn't seen Aziraphale since the angel had handed him the flask of Holy Water, and he wanted to make a good impression if their paths happened to cross. Besides, it was always fun to watch Aziraphale trying to adjust to what he considered </span>
  <em>
    <span>unnecessary changes. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was somewhat set in his ways, and Crowley adored him for it - adored him for everything - but sometimes it did him good to have to confront the changing times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A last look over the magazines, and Crowley was ready. He moved to stand in front of the mirror and snapped his fingers. A tight black shirt and flared trousers - no, he fancied a pop of colour. Another snap, and the shirt was the colour of a dark red wine, just a hint of purple to it. It was a good look, Crowley thought, but it was missing something. He glanced back at the magazines and snapped his fingers again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The moustache suited him, he decided as he looked into the mirror again. He looked like a new man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Name's Crowley," he told the mirror with a wink, and winced. No, this cool new Crowley deserved a cool new name to match. "Tony," he tried, shooting his reflection the finger guns. That felt better. That felt right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tony turned away from the mirror with a smile.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Time got away from me for a bit BUT I think I know what I'm doing with this now.</p><p>Rating has crept up as a precaution for future chapters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was, apparently, a decade for dancing. Demons didn’t dance - couldn’t, really - but </span>
  <em>
    <span>disco</span>
  </em>
  <span> was something quite different to the formal styles of a century ago, quite unlike the art form that was ballet, too. Mostly, it seemed to be a matter of memorising a few arrangements of limbs and then throwing yourself between them with what Aziraphale would probably call gay abandon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tony could do that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn't feel out of place, for once, throwing his arms and legs about in the middle of a crowd of humans all doing the same. He even, swept on a tide of exhilaration, went down to Hell and introduced some of his fellow demons to the practice. They weren't sure about it, at first, but once they saw how unimpressed Beelzebub was, they couldn't resist the opportunity to annoy zir.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tony actually saw Beelzebub get caught up in the rhythm, once, shifting from side to side, but the look ze gave him when ze realised he'd seen was enough to convince him it wasn't worth telling anyone about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tony was under no illusions about his dancing ability, but he enjoyed it. He spent his days in bed and his nights at the disco until, one night, he was invited to a party by a loose acquaintance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No girls allowed," the man told him, letting his hand linger on Tony's arm, and Tony tilted his head curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That sort of party, is it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. Don't forget your keys." He looked relieved to be understood; obviously this was set to be a gay old time in more ways than one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tony looked forward to it.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>OK, so this might not be entirely historically accurate but what the hell. Go along with it, yeah? I just wanted an excuse to put Tony in an awkward situation and this appealed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When he arrived at the enormous house in the suburbs, it was hard to find a parking space. Tony found one eventually, patted the Bentley's bonnet, and strolled inside.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The place was heaving with men, all sorts of men, hanging around and drinking and chatting. Someone, presumably the party host, met him at the door.</p>
<p>"Keys in the bowl, if you're a driver."</p>
<p>"Surely that's going to be a pain when we want to leave," Tony pointed out, but he dropped his keys in there all the same. The Bentley keyring didn't stand out as much as it usually did among all the other fancy sets of keys; this promised to be satisfyingly chaotic at the end of the night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He got himself a drink and began circulating, chatting to anyone who looked interesting. He wasn't expecting to glance across the room and lock eyes with Aziraphale. He <em> certainly </em>wasn't expecting Aziraphale to turn pale at the sight of him. But before he could go over and see what was wrong, the bowl reappeared, held high above their host's head.</p>
<p>"Right, who's ready for some fun? You all know the rules, but I see some new faces so just to be clear - non-drivers, pick your keys from the bowl, and then drivers, you just have to own up when yours are picked."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That sounded easy enough. Tony didn't particularly see the appeal of the game, but he didn't mind playing it. After all, it offered another chance for him to brag about his beloved Bentley.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No need to look so nervous, you newcomers - how about one of our regular visitors goes first to show you how easy it is?" Their host was obviously enjoying himself enormously, now. "Aziraphale, you're always here. Care to go first?"</p>
<p>Aziraphale blushed furiously, but he stepped forward, to general cheering, and plunged his hand into the bowl. He glanced at Tony, and then pulled his hand out.</p>
<p>"Oh, very nice," their host declared. "Who owns the Bentley?"</p>
<p>"I do," Tony declared proudly, "she's a beauty, isn't she?"</p>
<p>"That's not the point of the game," Aziraphale told him under his breath, "we're going to a spare room."</p>
<p>"Oh?" Tony quirked an eyebrow seductively. "Oh, <em>really?"</em></p>
<p>"Yes, that's rather the idea, come along."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Aziraphale seized his hand - <em> he was holding his hand - </em>murmured "I'll take the blue bedroom as usual, if you don't mind," and dragged Tony out of the room. Tony just had time to see another man reach into the bowl before they turned a corner and Aziraphale bundled him into a room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just trying to get this all in before the end of the month, really. I hope you're enjoying it, I still have no idea what I'm doing. But here. A chapter!</p><p>Rating... unlikely to change after this. Just so you know.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tony took a seat on the edge of the bed - the sheets were indeed blue, as were the walls - and watched as Aziraphale locked the door behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing here, you fiend?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was invited. Can't I go to a party without you turning up to thwart me?" He reconsidered. "Except apparently you're a regular."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good, you can explain this game to me, because I think I'm missing something."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Crowley-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's Tony, I'm going by Tony now-"</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Tony." </span>
  </em>
  <span>Aziraphale let out a breath, slowly and deliberately, as if he was trying to prove he could control the action. "Do you really mean to tell me you came to a <em>key party</em> by <em>accident?"</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A key party," Tony repeated, trying to remember why the term sounded familiar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale sighed heavily and sat down beside him on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, a key party. That’s when-” The doorknob rattled. “Occupied!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry!” The sound of giggling receded down the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s when- well, you saw, all the keys go in a bowl and those who haven’t brought keys pick them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what?” Tony frowned. “You don’t get to keep the car, do you? You wouldn’t take my Bentley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I’m not taking your Bentley, that’s not the- what I mean is- when-” A loud moan made itself heard through the wall, and suddenly all the pieces clicked into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s a sex thing.” He smiled hesitantly at Aziraphale. “Lucky you picked my keys, then, or we’d both have had some awkward explaining to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Aziraphale wasn’t meeting his eyes again. “Yes, very lucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t think so?” Tony frowned. “Were you hoping to- oh, and now you’re stuck in a room with me instead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t- I didn’t hope- I’m not here to sleep with the humans, Cr- Tony!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what?” Tony frowned. “Did… did you know those were my keys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did. That’s why I picked them.” Aziraphale sighed. “You can’t go two minutes without changing your entire style, but the </span>
  <em>
    <span>car</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that’s what sticks. Lucky for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Unbidden, Tony’s mind drifted to a world where Aziraphale had chosen him because he wanted to be close to him, physically close. Where Aziraphale had taken his keys so he could kiss him. Or- “If you’re not here to sleep with the humans, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>you here for?” For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Aziraphale might say </span>
  <em>
    <span>for you, Tony</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>to sleep with you</span>
  </em>
  <span> - and that was an exciting and terrifying thought, because Tony wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea. He loved Aziraphale, of course he did, he’d loved him for millennia, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to have </span>
  <em>
    <span>sex </span>
  </em>
  <span>with him. At least, not tonight, out of the blue, as part of a <em>game.</em> Besides, what if their sides found out? What if Aziraphale fell?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s voice broke through his panic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To protect them, of course.” He shrugged. “I’m sure they’d be fine, they’re quite sensible, but a few blessings here and there don’t harm anyone. Usually, either I don’t bother picking a key, or whoever I do pick falls asleep and has a lovely dream of what they might have been getting up to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you? What do you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I sit and think, or I read. There’s a reason I lay claim to this bedroom.” He gestured at the wall behind them, and Tony saw for the first time that there were shelves upon shelves of books there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t they notice it’s quiet?” The couple in the next room were being far from quiet, after all. But Aziraphale just smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think they’re all rather preoccupied, my dear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A loud moan from the next room only served to prove his point. Tony was silent for a little longer, but eventually the question burst out of him anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then why did you pick </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?"</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, this whole fic just turned into however many words of awkward nonsense, but there you go. I hope you enjoyed it, anyway. We've come to the end, so thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aziraphale wouldn’t look at him; instead, he seemed very interested in the books on the shelves, the sheets, the walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why me, Aziraphale?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because- because I wanted to see you!” The angel huffed. “Because I hadn’t, since I gave you- and I thought perhaps you were gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gone wh-?” Oh. “Oh, angel, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, I can see that now. I just thought we might catch up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At a sex party?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale made a curious little motion, then. Tony hesitated to call it </span>
  <em>
    <span>squirming</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because that was far more his designated lot in life, but it certainly didn’t look comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we were here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you didn’t- you don’t want to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good lord, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” That stung a bit, but it wasn’t as if it was anything Tony didn’t already know, hadn’t known for centuries. “That would be quite a bit too fast, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You go too fast for me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There it was again, new rejection layered over old, as if he’d even actually been proposing any such thing in the first place. And yet- </span>
  <em>
    <span>too fast </span>
  </em>
  <span>was not </span>
  <em>
    <span>not wanted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, that wasn’t a helpful line of thought. Aziraphale would let him know if he was ever ready to pursue anything of a romantic or sexual nature, and in the meantime Tony was quite happy to go on as they were. Speaking of which, he probably ought to be going. It wasn’t safe for them both to be in one place for too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna sneak out,” he told Aziraphale, scooping up his keys from the bedside table, and the angel jumped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh- was it something I said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, did you need me here for longer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not- not </span>
  <em>
    <span>need, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but the humans- I thought you might stay and help-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blessings aren’t really my thing, angel.” Crowley opened the window, glad that the bedroom was at ground level, and swung a leg over the sill. “They only need you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he melted into the darkness outside and went in search of his car.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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